


Worth

by keelywolfe



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Relationship, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus, Underswap Sans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 03:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15621207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Underswap was safety and so were the Monsters in it.





	Worth

* * *

The pain was hazing his sense of reality. 

Edge staggered, bracing himself against the side of a familiar, unfamiliar, house. The snow was worn down in a path rather than shoveled and he noted the crimson droplets spattering into the whiteness at his feet absently. Not enough to truly be a concern, a light scattering rather than a gush. 

The pain was dulling into a worrying sense of numbness, though, and that was enough to get him walking again, bracing one hand against the house as he made his way to the front door. Light flooded invitingly from the unbarred windows, haphazardly strung Gyftmas decorations blinking from the eves. It was everything his own house was not and Edge managed to lurch to the front door, scraping his knuckles against it in a feeble knock.

It was enough, the door opened, and before he collapsed, he saw a shocked face, one that was disturbingly similar to his own. Darkness was swarming him and before he gratefully allowed it to overtake him, he heard a single, shocked sentence.

"holy shit!"

The only holes are in me, Edge thought giddily, this was wholly shit and that was the truth. Sans would have laughed, he was sure, any version of Sans would have found amusement in his dark humor…eventually. Hands caught him under his arms and Edge sagged into them, giving in to the darkness.

* * *

He had no sense of time when he woke. There was still light streaming in from the opened window but that in itself meant little. It could have been an hour since he'd come here, a day, a week.

From the amount of cigarette butts heaped in the ashtray sitting at Stretch's elbow, he was going to guess it was closer to the hour option. 

Stretch was sitting in a chair that looked like it had been appropriated from their dining room set, another lit cigarette burning between his fingers. The open window was diluting most of the smoke but Edge could catch a faint whiff of the sharp aroma of cloves and tobacco.

He startled when he noticed Edge was awake and fumbled for the ashtray, crushing out the half-burned cigarette into the graveyard of butts. "hey, uh, how are you feeling?”

“Alive,” Edge rasped out. For whatever it was worth through the lingering pain, it was the truth. 

Stretch nodded jerkily. There were dark smears on his hoodie, dried to patchy dullness. "yeah, i guess…i mean…your bro is safe. i texted him, told him you were here. he didn't want to say where he was but he told me to tell you he's five by five? said you'd know what it meant."

Edge nodded slowly, ignoring the ache that bloomed in his skull at the motion. Safe was a relative term in Underfell but from that exchange, Red was as safe as was currently possible. It wasn't likely that he would lie about such a thing and wasn't worth the energy to worry, not in the condition he was in. It was grating to realize but Edge was in no position to help anyone. Gingerly, he pressed a hand against his ribs and there was some pain, but less than he'd expected. 

Much less than there should have been and his own clothes had been changed into a t-shirt and shorts that were worn but clean. "I didn’t know you could heal."

"yeah, well, uh…when…when you guys showed up, sans, my sans, shoved me into learning some," Stretch fumbled for his lighter but he didn't pull out a cigarette, only held it between his hands, rubbing his thumbs against the scratched metal. "he…uh…worries about you guys. i mean, i’m shit at it but…” he shrugged.

Edge would have begged to disagree. His vague memory of that warm _green_ pressure had been ungainly, rough, but powerful. He could still feel the slow upward tick of his HP. More disconcerting was seeing Stretch so ill at ease, his normal heavy layer of sarcasm was stripped away, leaving him with nothing, no barriers, no protection.

He was shaking.

Beneath the blankets, Edge's chest was a mass of cracked ribs and damage that would take days to heal, a fractured shield for his soul. But lying here, watching Stretch tremble while Edge could still feel the gentle swell of his magic healing him, there was something deeper in his ribcage, in his soul there was a thread of…something. He didn’t think there was a word for it, not one that he could place. 

The first time he’d felt it, it had been mingled with anger. Of all Monsters, why this one?

It was senseless because of all Monsters, Edge knew that Stretch was an obnoxiously sarcastic piece of shit. Because he used his laziness as a mask for depression, because he wasn't the brother that Blue deserved…and because Edge had grudgingly learned that as much as he tried not to, Stretch cared. Because beneath his sharp sarcasm was a genuine kindness that was rarely allowed freedom. Because when he was excited about something, he glowed with it, eye lights shining and his hands moving as fast as his mouth whenever he talked about stars and science and his brother. 

When Edge had been hurt, he’d come here because he knew that Underswap was safety, true, but also, that Stretch was safety. Edge had to fight so many things in his life. 

He was tired of fighting this. 

"Come here." Softly, a gentle command.

Stretch startled and nearly dropped his lighter. "what?" 

Edge lifted the blanket, offering, "Come here."

He could see the play of emotion across Stretch’s face, as complicated as his own, considering and rejecting options. Edge said nothing else, didn't attempt to persuade him, no cajoling or bribery. Only that raised blanket and the inviting warmth beneath it. He could tell when a choice had been made and Stretch stood, fumbling his lighter onto the table and pulling off his stained sweatshirt. It left him in a plain black t-shirt and shorts, and carefully he eased into the bed. 

It was awkward to start, neither of them sure where to put their limbs, arms and legs tangling and trying not to put pressure on any injuries. Until they clicked, settling together like puzzle pieces; it left Edge with his skull pressed to Stretch's sternum and that was fine. The gentle pulse of Stretch's soul was more soothing than he might have believed not so very long ago. 

"knew you’d get me into bed eventually,” Stretch muttered and Edge saw that for what it was, a defense mechanism. He'd been in enough fights to recognize a final attempt thrown up in desperation.

He chose not to rise to the bait, chose the mercy option, and Stretch said nothing else, only rested a tentative hand on the back of Edge's skull, his fingers gentle. There wasn't so much as a kiss exchanged between them, no promises or vows, only a simple embrace in a quiet room. 

It was a rare gift in his world, Edge thought sleepily, to have a battle worth not fighting. 

 

-finis-


End file.
